Page 22 - April-May HER

22 APRIL HER
HER Cover
She Made Our Home
A Wildlife Sanctuary
I notice
I never mix up
fresh batches of sugar water for the hummingbirds,
I never toss more birdseed into the numerous feeders,
I never plant and water green things
to root and burrow into bloom.
It is her toil to be in the soil like that,
for her hands to sprinkle sunflower
and stir sweet nectar,
a different stage in life,
a different scope on creation,
her labor
is for all the wild things, all the growing. Last week our house became
a certified registered Wildlife Habitat,
she even sent in approval applications to the National Wildlife Federation
to name our home
a safe space,
a haven for hooves and wings.
We had to have food, a water source, trees for cover, places to raise young, other requirements that I do not even know because she applied and I didn’t,
to make our house a sanctuary for the untamed,
a forest refuge for the feral,
and her labor is for the unprotected,
for the innocent.
The fleeing deer drink from our lake
eat soft grasses from our fields,
fawn peek through morning mist,
white tails flicker between skinny pines, purple spray paint on our property border trees say that these acres are safe from hunters. Every migrating species of bird
passes through the grand central station of her love here,
knowing she has the black oil sunflower, nyjer, thistle, bright oranges,
and care.
The chipmunks have tunneled elaborate underground cities
in our orchard of fruit trees.
The raccoons and squirrels
scurry in the oaks shaking branches
that wave with gratitude.
The singing red fox
hurls his love songs and croons
from a boulder here that faces the moon. The 10,000 frog chorus harmonizes with the whippoorwill, fireflies blink in updrafts,
the night is always a symphony.
The government even sent a metal sign
that she nailed gently to the front of our house a black bear in a ranger hat and the words “CERTIFIED WILDLIFE HABITAT
This property is recognized
for its commitment to sustainably provide the essential elements for wildlife”
See, all the wild wild things
have made this home,
have settled into the space our love leaves between leaves,
have claimed the paths that our feet carve from forest,
we share the air
and music
and movement
of this land
but I must admit
it is all by the labor of her loving hands,
this constant gardener bird feeder dream builder queen.
My wild wild
life
soul
heart
found refuge and safety
in her.
A poem dedicated to Joann Saraydarian from Kai Coggin’s book of poetry “Incandescent”
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22 APRIL/MAY 2020 ¯ HER MAGAZINE